


We Can Just Get A Loan

by buffer



Category: Ed Edd n Eddy
Genre: KevEdd - Freeform, M/M, after high school, underground fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffer/pseuds/buffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Double D’s in college and the two of them struggle to meet ends, so Kevin starts streetfighting for money</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr user wewters drew two amazing pieces and this came to be.  
> Nat belongs to tumblr user c2ndy2c1d

Aside from the expected fatigue, the only parts of me that aren’t in agony are my legs, which is a blessing because I have four flights of stairs to climb once I get home. For now all I focus on is the air conditioning wafting through the vents in Nat’s car. Either I’m still burning up from the fight or the a/c needs servicing because the draft isn’t as could as I want it to be; if only the not-so-frigid-air could prevent the bruises that were no doubt forming as the road noise blocked out everything but my thoughts. I exhale deeply, and my bangs brush against my lips as I inhale again. Tongue reflexively touches hair and brushes it to the side of my mouth, something that Edd had told me was some indication of I-don’t-remember-psychobabble. Right now it meant that my brain was temporarily distracted with the question of whether or not it was time for a haircut, but the distraction was only short lived when the price even the cheapest barber I know reminded me of why I was in my present condition.

I am in desperate need of money. I wouldn’t be where I am – on my way home from some shady, yet surprisingly well constructed, fighting arena that I had not even known existed until two weeks ago – if I was somehow able to earn as much as I should be able to. I work hard during the day as a dock worker, but times are tough and expenses keep rising. Everything, even the cost of soap, is getting more and more expensive. There are tips and tricks, using the bathroom at the 24-hour gym I have a membership at in order to use less toilet paper and lower utility costs; not eating out, obviously, Double D takes sandwiches to school every day (I survive on the same along with cheap protein bars); the list could go on and we’re doing most of it. One can only save so much. I saw no other option.

Nat had suggested street fighting as a joke. “If they can make a movie about some fat guy making it big, why not you?” It was pretty funny. Because I knew I could. High school “extracuricu-whatevers” had not been in vain and I was glad to have the muscle I had worked so hard to gain (an added bonus to my current job was that I got to keep and build on what had been gained). The presumption was simple: a few techniques and skills coupled with anger and no plan would keep the enemy on their toes, not knowing what to expect. And for three fights it had worked. Improvising and, more likely, sheer dumb luck had been my ally and I was able to put gas in the tank of my bike that Edd took to school every day (teaching him how to ride was its own reward), half of next month’s rent, and food for three weeks. Something was different about tonight.

Maybe I got cocky. That might explain why I taunted the guy before the bell rung. It was a stupid move; me, a rookie who had won his first three fights against probably other chumps like myself, had the nerve to tease a man who calmly took what I dished out, and then gave it right back to me in the form of a pretty good beating. I can respect the man for that. I deserve what I got. It was like the man could see straight through my strategy. By tonight I had a pretty good idea of what I was doing, or at least I thought I did.

The familiar sight of my parking garage curves into view as Nat turns a corner and drives up to my apartment complex. He hasn’t said anything during the twenty or so minutes it took to drive me home. I thank him for the ride, and it is as sincere as I can make it. I really am grateful because I don’t have a vehicle other than my trusty motorcycle, and having him there with me was a tremendous help.

“Are you ok, man?” I can hear the concern in his voice.

“I’ll survive. It’s like training with you again, only this time coach doesn’t stop us,” I say, trying to joke away the gravity of the situation. After the other fights I was definitely sore but I had never gotten more than one bruise, and I don’t’ even know how many I have right this moment nor do I know how many are on the way.

“That doesn’t even make sense, dude.”

“Shut up. I’ll probably call in sick tomorrow so I can rest. Happy?”

“Don’t be an ass. Are you going to be ok in there?” Nat is genuinely concerned; I can see it in his face. It’s one thing to cheer me on as I stupidly puff myself up to fight another grown man, it’s entirely something different when your significant other knows you got hurt so that they could have textbooks.

“I’ll wear a shirt to bed tonight and tell him you got drunk and gave me a black eye with a bottle or something.” Although I know it’s a terrible lie.

“Hey, it’s one thing to lie, but I can’t have the guy hating me for something I didn’t do!” Nat said, his joking mannerisms returning. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it if half of the world’s cutest couple hated me.

“Fine, some random drunk did it. And I’ll tell him I forced you to take me to the bar.”

Nat grinned a grin that said he knew I was going to have a rough time.

Once again I am grateful that I’m not limping as I climb four flights of stairs.

In my mind I can see myself walking into the bedroom, grabbing whatever shirt is on top of the folded pile you have always kept in my dresser, slipping it on, and gently, quietly folding myself against the skinny body of my Double Dork. My hand pauses on the doorknob as I wonder whether I should risk brushing my teeth so that you doesn’t flip out in the morning. Whatever I decided in that moment is lost as I open the door, flip on the light and see my pajama-clad genius waking up on the hand-me-down couch from your parents. The shock of seeing you there prevented me from thinking of turning the light off to hide the evidence.

In the now-lit living room you sit up and look at me, your expression going from glad, to scrutiny, to shock. In a second you are completely woken up and rushing toward me.

“Kevin! What happened to-“

Your inquiry is cut off as I bat your hands away and sidestep around you to get to the kitchen. Now that cuddling is out of the question I might as well put some ice where it hurts – which feels like most of me. “I’m fine, Edd. Go to bed, I’ll be there soon.”

“You cannot simply walk in, looking like you do, and expect me to turn a blind eye to your injured state!” You huff, following me.

You corner me by the freezer and gingerly put your hand on my forearm. I use my other hand to open the freezer and grab a bag of frozen peas (suddenly very grateful for the healthy eating habits you are trying to force on me) and place the bag on the back of my neck. I don’t care if something warm or cold is better for a sore neck, but the chills it gives me is very welcome.

“Please,” your whispering voice cracking. “What happened?”

Deep down I think I knew that you would find out eventually.

The urge to hold you is unavoidable so I turn around and pull you against me, resting my chin atop your head.

“I’m sorry, Edd.” I said, too tired for nicknames. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“And how would any other way be better?” Double D asked. “What did you do tonight?”

Silence is all I offer. Because the truth will hurt you more than any punch I’ve taken for you. Then, an idea strikes. “It’s nothing, Edd. Just got in a fight and bit off more than I could chew I guess.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth. Please, don’t ask me anything else. Your finals are coming up. “Can we go to bed now?”

“Were you involved in physical altercations Tuesday and Thursday of last week as well?”

Dammit.

You must have taken the way I tensed up as a yes because you shepherded me to the counter and ordered me to jump up. I tried to hide the pain when I put pressure on my bruised arm, just another evidence of my self-delusion.

“Kevin your injuries are not typical of a tavern brawl. Your attacker was trying to hurt you severely.”

“it was just a-“

“Please don’t lie to me,” your soft voice cut straight to my heart. Your eyes are pleading me to come clean and level with you. Suddenly what I thought was easy cash became a stupid idea. I’m such a doofus.

“It was a street fight. I thought I could handle it. Guess I was wrong.”

The look on your face changed to one of rage. “What on EARTH possessed you to do anything near a poorly constructed arena? The foundation could have given out! You are risking heavy metal poisoning when every time you scrape against the fence! And don’t get me started on the types of mold and insect activity that results from leaving these abominations out in the rain, uncovered no less.”

Without knowing it, my hand rises to your ear to tuck the rogue strands of your black hair back behind your ear and underneath your cap. Please, just yell at me some more. Don’t make me tell you the reason. Just let me fight a few more times and tell you it’s because I like it. Just drop it because the longer I stare into your stupid blue eyes the sooner my tongue will become undone.

“Kevin,” oh man the pleading in your voice. “Why are you doing this?”

I have to. “I didn’t get a bonus from work. The money I got last week was my winnings. Tonight I thought I was invincible.”

Don’t you dare fall to your knees. Don’t look at me like that. Just…don’t. “Double D, get up. I still got some money tonight.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t be Double Dense. You’re obviously better at math than I am so you know exactly how much money we don’t have. I’m doing this because you are going to get your damn degree and make tons of money so that we can move out of this…place.” My arms flail about for emphasis. This cheap apartments isn’t the worst place I’ve ever been in, and your OCD, germaphobia, whatever it is definitely improved the condition of, well, everything about this place. But You deserve so much better.

“Kevin, you don’t have to do this.” I bet I’m blushing as your face gets closer to mine. “I can find some work. Take a semester off and do…something!”

I want to take your face in my hands, but they’re still wrapped up and someone else’s blood and spit is on them.

“Eddward, when you agreed to be with me, I promised that as long as you still wanted to be with me I would provide everything I could for you and that I would work hard so that you don’t have to. So yeah, I do have to. For you.”


	2. Chapter 2

When the aches in my back began I knew it was time to quit, but I couldn’t. The pile that I had taken home with me had diminished greatly, but since ungraded assignments still remained I would proceed with my work. If certain environmental factors had not impeded my progression I would have finished hours beforehand, but there was no use in arguing. I suppose I really did need to eat.

I had acquired this position as a grader for one of my previous professors shortly after discovering that you had gone out for one more fight after you recovered. You had told me that you were simply drinking with Nat, but I knew. During your absence I began sending emails and resumes to potential interested parties, as well as inquiring about availabilities and other options. Next I went into the kitchen so as to prepare a small, warm meal upon your return. A simple soup on the lowest heat setting.

I must have fallen asleep at the kitchen table, because your bandaged hand shook me awake and I almost screamed at the sight of you. I thought that your appearance the previous night was atrocious, but that night you were even worse. The black eye you had received was still a bit yellow from your previous bout, and this time your other eye was completely swollen shut. I had hoped that the missing tooth was simply my tired eyes (it was) and that the darkening bruises were simply my imagination (it wasn’t). Your legs were bare, and one foot was only barely touching the ground. One hand had clutched the table with as much weight comfortably possible, it seemed.

I wanted to cry. The tears that formed were rubbed away as I asked you to repeat whatever it was you just said.

“I won, Double D. Seven hundred bucks!”

“Splendid. We can use that to pay for your doctor’s visit, and then we’re back to where we started.” Really, what _was_ , the point if you were going to come home in this state?

I don’t remember your reply, I simply stood up, kissed your cheek, and forced you into the chair I was sleeping in. The pot on the stove was boiling (thankfully it hadn’t burnt; I’m still upset that I fell asleep with the stove on) and I served you the vegetable and sausage filled broth so that your body would have the fuel it needed to repair itself. What else was there to do? Yes, you had lied to me, but you were providing for both of us. I wanted to be angry, I was angry, but deep down all I really wanted was for you to stop. There are better ways; ways that won’t leave me at home, worried you might not survive.

What did you do to the charming boy that I knew in our hometown? I suppose he is still in there, protecting his friends, keeping his loved ones safe, taking the hits so that others didn’t have to. Admirable qualities to be sure, but now that boy had turned into a man, Edd along with him, and with the sudden adulthood came responsibilities previously undreamed of. Even at seventeen few knew just how much effort it took to be independent financially.

You started spouting off ideas on what we could spend the money on:  a television so that we wouldn’t be watching on the screen of my laptop, a down payment on an actual car, new furniture, steaks every day, a dog. Your enthusiasm was contagious, and I must have been smiling because you leaned over your soup to kiss me. That taste of you and boiled carrots and potatoes was a wonderful combination, if only you would eat like this more often.

“So tell me, after we have acquired all of those things, how will we afford the payments?” I said this with a smile, but I really wanted to hit you. Who had been hurt worse that night: me or you?

Why did we need a big TV when every time we watch a movie or tv show we have to press up against each other just to see? Why do we need a vehicle which will cost us more in gas, insurance, and monthly payments when you own your motorcycle? Although it would be nice to have a canine companion, it would be another mouth to feed and neither of us would be able to give a puppy the attention and training it needs. Sacrifices needed to be made in the beginning so that further on we can appreciate some of life’s pleasures.

That was the night I asked you to promise me that you would not fight again, not for money.

 

 

The comfort of the new sheets that had been purchased with the winnings surprised me. What time was it? I was not surprised to find you in my arms, but the paper and red pen in your hands was unexpected. It suddenly dawned on me that those were the papers I was supposed to be grading.

What came out of my mouth was a jumbled mess of “What are you doing,” “Are those my papers?” and “When did I go to bed?”

“Go back to sleep, babe,” you said with a chuckle. ‘I’m almost done.”

“I need to get ready for school,” my protest was weak. I was still trying to discover how I had arrived here.

“I know we don’t live close to campus, but three in the morning is a bit early, unless you’re going to walk.”

A glance at the alarm clock confirmed what you had said. “Why are you grading those?”

Your head rolled down, giving me a look that expressed your frustration. “You fell asleep at the table, so I’m finishing for you.”

“That’s dishonest, Kevin!”

“Listen, dork, as long as these get done right I don’t think your professor gives two shits about who does it.”

I will never stop trying to persuade you to stop using foul language, and as punishment I bite your stomach. You kiss my forehead.

“Go back to sleep.”

This time, your argument is extremely compelling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some inspiration and continued. This is definitely the end.


End file.
